


i don't think i can stand to be (where you don't see me)

by cryle, saythe8



Category: C-Pop, Chinese Actor RPF, EXO (Band)
Genre: (we spent forever on this we hope u like it xoxo), Happy Ending, Hotels, Kinda, M/M, Party, Reunions, Slight Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24274765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryle/pseuds/cryle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saythe8/pseuds/saythe8
Summary: oh you know, when you see the great love of your life at a party? and that person also doubles as the biggest mistake of your life? and you both haven't talked to each other in years?yeah. taoris see each other at a party. they're both wildly unprepared. tonight's... gonna be something, alright.
Relationships: Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao/Wu Yi Fan | Kris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	i don't think i can stand to be (where you don't see me)

**Author's Note:**

> this was first conjured up back in january. i (saythe8) was in charge of beta ing it, but i am a loser who didn't ever wanna spend a whole day editing it.
> 
> obviously, i have finally spent the whole day. congrats to me.
> 
> anyway, in case u haven't read the tags, this is written in rp (roleplay) form, since both of us are fiends who still do that in 2020, so i hope that doesn't deter any of u too much, bc some of the shit in here cld kill jk rowling's career.
> 
> happy reading! :)

So yeah, basically, Jackson was out here throwing one of Cpop's biggest exclusive parties (as in, not exclusive at all if you knew the right people, but there were stars everywhere so you get the point). And yeah, of course Zitao wanted to go-- he would never be the one to pass up on a party: an opportunity to show up and show off. Make himself pretty, expensive, desirable, but untouchable. 

And as if he wasn't planning to go already, his group of friends had also decided to go. It was nice to let off steam between the year's previous activities and the rapidly approaching onslaught of end-of-the-year concerts, festivals, and award shows. 

And now they were here, at the party, just arrived, the Gucci gang shit. Zitao was quick to grab a drink, take a look at everyone else who couldn't resist a good rager, and... fuck. Frankly, he hadn't even thought of the other people that could be here aside from him. 

He didn’t really have anything to do with the departure or aftermath-- it wasn't really a problem he caused that put him in this weird limbo predicament (or maybe it was, because his feelings were hurt and he said some nasty stuff a few years ago and then cried about it on national TV and then-- you get the picture. Maybe Tao _did_ have a little to do with it after all), but he didn't want to cause conflict despite not having a personal grudge. 

More the opposite of a grudge, actually. 

To put it simply, Yifan is tall as fuck. Maybe he is not the tallest person in the room, but certainly towering above most of the people among them. It wasn't hard to scope him out, even on accident. And Zitao was... well, he wouldn't call it _hiding_ per se, but maybe ducking a little closer into his little huddle of friends to avoid making it awkward for both of them. He listened to the chatter-- at least, what he could hear above the bass and weird dance pop, and tried not to think about _had Yifan changed that much in the past few years? He was never really a party guy? Jesus Christ, Zitao, get ahold of yourself!_

Yifan was never really a party guy. He wasn't even sure why he was here, anyway. Of _course_ he knew Jackson - because everybody on the face of the planet knew Jackson - and of _course_ he got an invitation from the party man himself. Like, sure, they’ve collabed, but only in the lame sense of being on internet banners and stuff (not unlike that one banner they did for Single's Day a couple years ago).

But what Yifan didn’t know is that Jackson did not even care in the _slighest_ who he was inviting. As long as they were rich, hot, and famous, they were on his invite list. Which is painful for Yifan, because he’s all of those things, and Jackson knew full and well that Yifan fucking _hates_ parties.

But tonight? He was coerced. Convinced. _Kidnapped,_ would be the word he'd use if questioned about it. He was out with who he would regrettably call his friends. You know, the ones who managed to drag his lumpy ass out of his dumb studio to go to this even dumber party. He's at least partially glad isn't one of the more.. _scandalous_ ones. (Because of course Jackson Wang would throw ~~orgies~~ sex parties. He’s rich and hot and a party guy. Yifan would be doing the same damn thing, in another universe where he was fond of parties.)

And okay, maybe this was a _little_ better than being cooped up writing some song he wouldn't release for god knows how long, but still. He didn't exactly want to be here. Especially because...

Because...

...

Because Tao is here. Not that that isn't expected at all. This is a Cpop party, so he should've expected this, but he's still _terribly_ caught off guard. God. Maybe he could just ignore him. Which sounds extremely mean. But what _could_ he do? There wasn't much else he _can_ do. Especially since.. everything that happened.

Yifan shook his head, and then turns his gaze to his friends. He's not going to call it ignoring. Just selective vision. Yeah. Selective vision sounds nice.

Zitao's plan of complete and consistent avoidance is absolutely not working. After being ghosted for so long, he'd actually gotten Yifan out of his mind for quite a while-- enough to collect himself, feel better, focus on other things long enough to start getting work done. Even so, hearts are a cursed thing that tend to hit you with the worst possible memories at the worst possible times just to make you ache. 

Anyway, yeah, he'd actually forgotten that he was really upset, _heartbroken, demolished, torn,_ about being abandoned and ghosted for-- you know, nevermind. Now that he knew Yifan was _right there,_ his brain was doing that stupid thing it does when someone you yearn for is so close and you just-- can't grasp them. Yifan probably doesn't wanna talk to him anyways, if the last few years are anything to go by… but he swears that at least once when he glanced, Yifan was looking back at him? It's pretty dark though, he's just going to igno-- he can't ignore it. He can't fake ignoring it either because there's this string in his mind and the thought that maybe Yifan is looking at him is just tugging and tugging and-- he's so _stupid_ for continuing to look. He knew this had to happen eventually.

It's been maybe an hour? And he's still--

He's still going at it, stealing glances and peeks around other people's heads, and it's getting super awkward because his friends have noticed and they aren't saying but... yeah, they definitely know. One at a time they've followed his gaze and looked back at him with pitiful expressions. He hates it, for real. You know, at least he looks good, though? He's got his pretty jewels under his eyes and he did really good with his makeup! Just enough black smoke and glistening silver. He was kind of feeling himself (even though he almost always did when he goes out, because he doesn't go out unless he's up to his own standards).

It's a plus that he looks good, because obviously he wants to look good for everyone _but he really would've spiced it up if he knew Yifan was going to be here, because he wants to make him... maybe jealous? Just a little? That he'd been missing out?_ Zitao can't remember the exact state of their friendship whenever Yifan abandoned him, but jeez, he sure did have an urge to want Yifan to talk to him again.

Yifan was getting a little sick of having to ~~ignore~~ ~~avoid~~ _look away_ whenever he saw Zitao in his line of vision, because it was exhausting, and because his friends were at least a little privy to the situation. (AKA, they totally know what's going on, and they are absolutely busting his balls about it. Proof of this is when one of them tried dragging Yifan to an area this particular friend _knew_ Zitao was at. Yifan nearly lost his damn mind. Scrambling back unnoticed was a chore, to say the least.) He definitely would've preferred being in his dumb studio right now, because this party was sure getting dumber and dumber.

But whatever, for the most part, things were going smoothly. They still haven't talked or made eye conta-- Yifan is eating his words. They just sorta maybe kinda made eye contact. Jesus. He can't really tell, either, because it was dark and Yifan whipped his head back to his friends so fast that the space behind his eyes was starting to hurt. A headache was forming and he _still_ didn't know what to make of his own damn situation. Christ. He would _absolutely_ rather be home right now. Anything else is better than having to pretend like you don’t have a very long, painful history with somebody you’re not exactly on speaking terms with.

Not that Yifan has any right to complain. All of this was technically his _own_ fault, if you cut all the bullshit.

Zitao had spent a good amount of time working himself up now, and had sufficiently made enough eye contact with each of Yifan's friends to let them know to _please walk away_ because he was going to fucking do it. He was going to walk up to him the moment his friends found the convenient time to leave him alone. 

(Yifan hated being alone in these situations, so really, this was a shot in the dark unless they explicitly said "Yifan stay right here and don't move." Ugh. This was awful. What the hell.) Zitao is getting anxious, the realization that this could very possibly be his one shot, and he's going to take it if it kills him.

He uses his minx powers to part from his friends with a wink. He slinks nearer as stealthily as he can (Jackson, the party man himself, almost blows his cover though, and so do Yifan’s friends when they catch him approaching silently behind Yifan) and-- here goes nothing. If Yifan is even half the man Zitao knew, he's breaking a lot of Yifan's boundaries right now (don't sneak up on him, don't touch him without permission, etc), but sacrifices must be made in times such as these. 

He gently tugs the back of Yifan's shirt, because touching him would maybe be a little too much for both of them, and takes a breath.

Yifan almost jumps out of his own fucking skin. Like, nearly becomes a full on anatomy model. He desperately hopes his reaction wasn't physically shown (it was), because that would be embarrassing and his friends would laugh at him and.. wait. Where were his friends? Yifan glances to his left, and then to his right, and he doesn't see any of his friends near him. In fact, it was just a sea of people that he didn't know. Were they fucking with him? Why are they always fucking with him? Jesus. His headache is gonna split his head in two if they’re fucking with him.

"Peng, dude, seriously, if you're fucking with m-" 

He turns around, eyes dead, expecting to see one of his shithead friends there to greet him, but it isn't. It obviously, awfully, clearly isn't. It's Zitao, Huang Zitao, like Tao formerly from the Korean pop group EXO Zitao, and he was behind him, in the flesh, something that now makes Yifan truly realize who tugged on his shirt. A sudden feeling of dread fills his stomach in waves, like a terrible, shitty ocean, and Yifan couldn't swim.

He might just vomit.

"Oh. I'm sorry I thought you were…” He stops, for a beat, for a moment, for a second. He doesn’t know what to say. “Hey." Is what he settles on, which makes him feel dumber than his studio, dumber than this party.

He was the dumbest thing he's had to encounter tonight, and that's saying a lot, considering that Yifan isn't much of... anything person. Not a people person, not a party person, and definitely not a talking person. Which means Yifan is royally fucked. What is he supposed to say? Where were his friends? When did Zitao get over here? He has so many questions, but so little time as he painfully awaits Zitao's response to possibly the worst thing to say after you abandon somebody without a trace. This was truly a situation.

Yifan jumping was exactly what Zitao was counting on and-- man, he was like 90% sure that the other could hear his heart beating, because the blood rushing through his veins was drowning out his breathing and the bass and the music and the chatter surrounding him and dear god, Zitao is going to pass the fuck out. Oh god. He takes a breath and puts on the sweetest smile he can muster, leaning in much closer because he couldn't hear half of Yifan's god damn sentence he just said. He hasn't drank much, so it doesn't feel like the alcohol is affecting much, but maybe it _would_ be better if he was a little tipsy. Too late now, Zitao.

He's got a stupid saccharine smile on his face as he totally invades Yifan's personal space. He hopes he doesn't mind too much. 

"Hey...?" He laughs a little, avoiding Yifan's eyes even though they're essentially pressed against each other. 

"Didn't think you were much for parties, ge..."

"I'm not." Yifan replies quickly, before Zitao could leave completely. If he is anything Yifan remembers him to be, he would get tired of waiting for what he once called a _"cold and calculated response"._ Yifan had to feel a little hurt at that, since he was just trying to be neutral and not hurt feelings. (But maybe Zitao had just a little bit of a point, back then.)

"I got dragged out here by my friends and.." He raised a hand to scratch at the back of his hair, something that he remembers Zitao would say is his "nervous pose" or something, which means he'd figure out Yifan was nervous, which means he has never put his hand back at his side faster. (Well, maybe that time he and Zitao were maybe sorta kinda being just a _smidge_ too close to each other, but whatever.)

"So I'm here now. But anyway, what about you?" That's... a dumb question, Yifan. "You look good, by the way. You doing good?" Even dumber question. Yifan wants to just, like, disappear completely, or something.

"I didn't think so," Zitao breathed out and god, Yifan probably couldn't even hear him so he just looks like an idiot moving his mouth with nothing coming out. Okay, another deep breath so these words can actually formulate-- and we're good to go. He listened really closely, because not to be stupid or sappy, but no matter he dragged his brain away from the thought, he couldn't help but cling onto every word Yifan spoke to him (in the low, slightly stilted way and just... just the way Zitao remembers him).

He appreciates the compliment though, and in true cliche fashion, he's glad it's dark as fuck because his face might just fucking burst into flames any moment now, just at that singular compliment.

"You look like you need to get out of the studio more." And it's too late to try to save face, because Zitao is now wondering if he's wearing his waterproof makeup, he forgets and that isn't good at the moment because he might _cry_ instantly. "I was fine until I saw you."

"Ah." Yifan doesn't know how else to react. Or what to say, really. Just.. ah. He chooses to ignore the studio comment for the more.. _pressing_ issue at hand. Which means... this truly a pickle, is what he was in.

"I'm.. sorry. I'm sorry." He manages, to process through his brain and push past his lips. "I'm sorry, for making you upset, or sad, or whatever. I wish..."

He doesn't know how to continue. He really, really doesn't know how to continue. But..

He mumbles something, but then he dimly remembers how loud the music is and how there's so many other people having conversations similarly to how he was having one with Zitao right now, but he's _two_ hundred percent sure their conversations didn't have the emotional baggage or toil or _whatever_ that this one did. But Yifan needs to speak louder, think faster, do better. So he talks a little louder, for the sake of Zitao being able to hear what he has to say.

"I wish things were different."

"...I feel like I need to apologize too but I kind of... already did that on TV... in front of all of China and anyone with internet access." Zitao almost smiled because wow, that was embarrassing and pathetic and his filter is completely leaving him because there is no possible way this could get any worse or more awkward or upsetting. This weird passive aggressiveness was going to have to carry on for a little bit longer.

He looked up at Yifan, batted his eyelashes because Zitao wanted to be _kind,_ he wanted to be _sweet,_ he wanted to be a good little _doll_ and just forgive him, but Jesus Christ it's been years and he doesn't even know how to act anymore.

He knows Yifan ( _knew_ Yifan, he corrects himself) and even though he throws an arm around Yifan's shoulders so this time _he can't run away_ and he knows that _hiding_ "wish things were different" means he wishes he didn't do what he did. He wants to push and shove and make Yifan say it, but he can't find it in his heart. He can't.

“Yeah, me too. Wish you didn’t leave.”

Yifan.. Yifan's whole body falters. His words.. they stop dead in his throat. His heart squeezes in most likely the worst way possible, second to the moments after being literally shot.

Yifan might as well have gotten literally shot. He actually might've preferred that.

"Yeah I.. I uh.. know. About the apology. And stuff..." He isn't sure how to.. address much else at the moment. His head is spinning. He might.. throw up or something. God, that would be gross.

"..."

A stretch of silence. Yifan lets his gaze wander from Zitao to.. the room. The other people. Anywhere else. He can feel his collar starting to get a little too tight, his stomach coiling into strings of iron and copper.

To paraphrase, Yifan feels like shit. But he still needs to think faster. To do better.

So he forces himself to look back at Zitao. To shove a semblance of a sentence out of his mouth.

"I'm so sorry. For leaving. And not telling you, or warning you, or talking to afterwards, or now. After so many years and.."

He feels what seems to be tears or.. or yeah, _tears_ at the corners of his eyes, and he thanks the skies that he doesn't wear makeup very often anymore.

"And just.. straight up shittiness. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Zitao."

Yifan thinks he hasn't done enough with apologies. But he can't say much more without immediately losing his mind. He needs a break. To let Zitao speak. So he doesn't have to like... cry or something. That would be a tad bit pathetic.

Zitao's softhearted, he's weak and he's always going to forgive someone, even though his heart swells and he wants to sob and hit Yifan on the chest and call him stupid and say those mean things all over again _that he already apologized for and said he didn't mean but he wanted to say them again._ He shakes his head and sniffs, he wants to take all this go back to... _wondering._

Instead, he slides the arm down and just hugs him. Which is totally weird and pathetic, but he figures Yifan understands. He has tunnel vision right now and his brain has drowned out anything that could possibly interrupt this moment and these answers that he's _wanted,_ that he's _begged_ for for years and years, and was convinced that he would never have but... they're here, aren't they?

"You said sorry enough..." Zitao sighs quietly, and yes, Zitao can feel Yifan's heart beating and this definitely isn't helping him not have a heart attack or anything.

"Where are you staying at?"

Yifan tilts his whole head up to prevent himself from like.. emo sobbing into this hug. He's taller, anyway, so it just kinda looks like he's avoiding putting his head on top of Zitao's. Which is.. something he used to like doing to tease him.

Damn, it really has been a while.

He has to reciprocate though, so he slings both his arms around him, to make sure that Zitao understands that he isn't uncomfortable, or weirded out, or something else. Although he should. They're at a party and they're.. hugging. Whatever. Not like anybody was sober or unhorny enough to notice. If anybody were to interrupt them, it would be either of their friend groups or the host himself, but Yifan believes that all three parties (haha, get it?) are smart enough to understand what was happening here.

"I'm staying at a hotel nearby, since driving back to my place would honestly exhaust me." Also, he wanted to avoid driving his friends home. They drove him here, and he'd be damned if he had to drive their drunk asses back. "Why?"

Zitao's heart flutters at the thought that maybe things can just go back to the way they were. Maybe they can just forget about all of this and just... go on where they left off? Probably not, but they could at least begin to fix things. It's not like-- it seems like Yifan wouldn't be opposed to talking to him again, if their current position was anything to go by.

He'd also thought about their friend groups and how at least a few of them were definitely watching this go down, but that wasn't a problem right now. He felt like he was back where he belonged. Actually that scared him a little but anyway,

"Well-- if you were... up to it, I thought - I thought we could go to one of our rooms. I don't wanna do any of like, _that stuff_ but..." He lets out a breath. "We could just... talk."

"No I.. I get it." Yifan does get it, truly. (Which... was a bit rare for him.) There was a lot to be said, and saying them in a crowd full of strangers who doubled as drunk party goers wasn't... exactly the ideal place to talk about sensitive subjects.

But then Yifan thinks about how Zitao said _”our rooms”_ and it hits him that they would've probably had this conversation at some point. Like in the elevator, or in the hallways, or even in the parking lot. How many chances would they have had to talk to each other?

How many chances _did_ they have to talk to each other, in all these years since back then?

...

Yifan has decided to ignore it for now. Much like he did earlier, regrettably, to Zitao.

"We can go talk. When do you wanna go?" He finally rests his head on top of Zitao's, just to feel fully comfortable in this hug. (Which doubled as letting Zitao know that he was absolutely fine with hugging him. As if having both arms wrapped around him wasn't enough to convey that feeling.)

Zitao is kind of afraid of approaching the subject, but... flinging himself headfirst into every situation and remaining optimistic even though the outcome can be terrible-- it’s gotten him pretty far though.

"Now is... fine. Or whenever, if you're not done being a total party animal."

He laughs a little at his own comment, but whenever he feels Yifan rest his chin on Zitao's head its too much and once again he's so glad that the party is _so loud_ because Zitao fucking outright sobs and just presses himself more into Yifan-- he feels so dumb but he really should be used to this because hes never been any good at controlling his feelings…

"Mm. Yeah." It was almost pathetic, how simple the quip was, but how much it begged to make Yifan burst into laughter, right in the middle of this party. (Well, they weren't exactly in the middle of the floor, and it was reaching the tailend of the event, since he had see people starting to leave.) But regardless, Yifan feels Zitao press his face into his chest, and he just has an inkling that he's probably overwhelmed, or something. (It makes him want to lift his head back up. That probably was a bit too much. Too comfortable, or something. Probably. Yeah.)

...

Yifan doesn't lift his head up.

"I was never much of a party animal in the first place." He began, scanning the area for his friends in the process. "I don't know about you, but finding my friends would be more than a little bit inconvenient right now, so if you want to leave to say bye to yours, that's fine, but I'm just gonna text them I left, since I'm not gonna ride back with them anyway." They're freaks who'd see Zitao with him and think they were gonna go bang, or something, and Yifan was more than grossed out by their imaginations. What they expected from him is what they wouldn't receive, so he's just gonna ditch them and act like he.. left to bang some girl from this party, or something along those lines. That would appease them enough.

"It's cool if you wanna properly say bye to your friends though. I'll wait outside and call a cab, I suppose." Yifan completely forgets to ask if Zitao came here carpool style or with his own car. Yifan is.. a little bit dumb.

It's good that Yifan keeps talking because ZItao needs some time to collect himself. So he does. He doesn't have a mirror so whether his shit is smudged everywhere is really a hit or miss on how reliable his setting spray and primer are. They were expensive as fuck so hopefully he's good. He sniffs and pulls away, looking at Yifan’s shirt that has a little smudge of silver glitter and black, and decides that it's probably fine as long as Yifan isn't mad. (Who is he kidding, Yifan only has a 4% chance of noticing and a 2% chance of saying anything about it in the case he does see it.)

Zitao glances up at the older, and he's still all teary eyed but you know, Yifan has seen him like this at least a thousand times already. And he averts his gaze to the crowd, where he meets eyes with one of his friends. And just gives them a wave. He's in the same boat as Yifan here and would much rather just send them a snapchat or something than hunt them down.

He just nods, returning to looking at Yifan. "We can just leave, gege. I'm a big boy, I can go places myself..." He swallows. "I took a cab here, so we can take one... are we-- are we going to your room or mine?"

"Right, I understand." If Yifan was literally with any other group of friends, he'd say bye to them. But maybe Zitao is out with the same kinda friends Yifan is, so.. he can't find fault in not wanting to say bye. Does it make them shitty friends? (No, he has to rationalize, it doesn't. In retrospect, it's not like Yifan's group would care much in the _"you left us :("_ way. They are all rich, so they can call cabs too, if they're really that hammered. He's sure Jackson wouldn't mind a couple cars in the driveway until.. whenever he starts minding. Yifan's about 50% sure he owns this place anyway.)

He looks down at Zitao, thinking he sees a bit of glisten in his eyes, but Yifan has chosen to ignore it. Maybe it's there, but he thinks calling it out would make it... a lot worse. "Uh, whatever makes you more comfortable. I don't really mind which.. which room we go to." I mean, they still have to check in and stuff, but that won't be much of a hassle. "I could go to yours, so you don't have to walk to mine.."

Zitao is in fact with the same kind of friends Yifan is, but that's because that’s how Zitao pretends to be even though he's Just A Little Boy. "We can go to yours... even though I would like to get changed, I guess-- I can wait." He gives him a little smile.

Honestly, he was feeling a little better. Even if now he's starting to overthink, because _if Yifan still seems exactly the same, is that a good or bad thing? They could easily fall back into the old swing of things that way, even if things are different now, but if the old Yifan left, why wouldn't current Yifan do the same?_ And he wants to keep thinking about it, but-- Kris is so warm. And he just wants to get the hell away from this party because now he is actually starting to get overwhelmed with... everything.

He shakes everything from his head and grabs Yifan's wrist, dragging them both to the door.

Yifan gladly lets Zitao drag him away from the party, the noise, his friends. It's better than Yifan doing it himself, because he might squeeze Zitao's wrist too hard, or drag him away too fast, or something equally as bad. Sure, it shows that he cares, by doing it first, and he wants to do this, but Yifan is happy to let Zitao have his way. (He's sure he'll have other opportunities to show that he cares, anyway.)

Regardless, they finally leave the party. Officially. The air outside smells... fresher than Yifan had remembered it to be. But then he remembers that they're in China and China is horribly polluted and... Yifan has decided to stop inhaling so hard.

"So... do you want me to call the cab?" Yifan brings a hand to his head, to run it through his hair, and then he realizes how… _loud_ he's talking. The party has really fucked with his senses, huh? "I apologize for the, uh, loudness of my tone." He says, a breathy laugh following.

Zitao is also glad they're out of the party-- escaping the feeling of awkwardness over intimacy, getting away from the judging and presumptuous eyes of both of their friends _who couldn't possibly understand that the tension between them is anything but sexual, and that fucking had absolutely nothing to do with it, the shallow assholes don't know what it's like to--_ alrighty, Zitao. Pull yourself together.

He jumps when Yifan talks, just because of the volume which he wasn't expecting. The streets aren't exactly empty, _because the streets in China's urban districts are never really empty,_ but it does take a second for his ears to adjust as well-- to the sounds muffled from inside of buildings and the cars driving by, and the occasional pedestrian like themselves.

And he almost rips his own heart out whenever Yifan laughs. It's just a little thing that escaped during an exhale, and Zitao knows that, but just seeing Yifan smile makes him feel so much better. "It's fine, it was like-- way too loud in there."

"Yeah... but still. I apologize." Yifan shoots him a small, awkward smile, picking his own back pocket for his phone. It seems as if... it's on the other side. He swaps hands quickly, pulling the phone out with ease. "I'll just, uh, call a cab now..." He probably shouldn't be saying cab... or taxi, for that matter. Quite plainly, he's calling an Uber, because cabs and taxis... dying business. (He's well aware that Ubers are basically the same thing, but still.)

With a few taps, he orders an Uber (carefully making sure it isn't an Uberpool, because _yes_ he has done that on accident before and _no_ he didn't mean to, he's just _that_ dumb), and awaits for the car's arrival. Despite having knowledge of nothing, Yifan does know what different cars look like, because he is a macho man who... is also a car nerd, kind of? To paraphrase, Yifan will know when the correct car arrives.

"So... how's it been?"

...

Yifan thinks he's possibly the worst conversationalist of all time.

Zitao kind of just leans into Yifan's side. It's fucking cold, and Zitao isn't exactly dressed scandalous, but he's definitely underdressed for the weather.

And something about being on the cold streets of China at night with Yifan, waiting for their ride, sparks something in the air inside Zitao's lungs, and he almost cries again. Something is so vividly nostalgic about this, because he remembers when the members would go out at night, when _Zitao and Yifan_ would go out at night, and they'd get a cab back to the dorm-- even before they'd debuted and things were fresh and new and untainted by bad decisions and lack of a filter.

Zitao's been silent for a good five seconds after Yifan asked, so it's probably time to answer.

"It's been... decent. Sleep alot. Travel a lot. Work out a lot. Sing alot. Dance alot. Write a lot." He shrugs with the shoulder not half jammed into Kris' chest.

"What... What about you?"

Yifan lets Zitao lean in, because it reminds him of those nights out, too. It reminds him of when they were younger, dumber, broker. Of when... they had each other.

...

Do they still have each other?

Yifan shakes his head. He has decided to lay his thoughts to rest for a while, to respond.

"I've been... good." Yifan is only a little bit amused with how they both paused after "been". Maybe his awkwardness is starting to rub off on him. "I've released a couple things, you know, and... and it's been pretty alright. Nothing too... difficult or anything." That was true. He's just making it sound fucking weird. "I've been in the studio a lot lately--" _Zitao didn't ask, man._ “and it's been just a tad bit draining but overall? Pretty... pretty cool." Yifan... is blabbering. "Anyway, uh, yeah. I've been good."

Jesus Christ.

"What.." He was about to ask _”what about you?”_ but then his brain finally caught up and reminded him that he had already asked that. So, he shut his big dumb mouth, and waited.

Right now, the awkwardness was pretty spread between them, therefore Zitao had lost the easiness he usually tried to uphold-- he was still trying though...

"I've heard some stuff you did... I've seen all-- a.. a few of your movies..." He rubs his nose against Yifan’s shoulder in a pathetic attempt at affection. He was ignoring the fact that he wanted to just hug onto Yifan and kiss his cheek and never let him go but-- they were adults now. They had to talk through things, and things like-- like this? It had to be talked about. It had to be talked through. If they didn't discuss it, it would just keep coming up and tugging at Zitao's heart (and maybe Kris' too, but Zitao can't really tell).

"You're really good at all that stuff. I'm proud of you, gege. Even if you had to leave to do it..."

"Oh, really? That's..." Cute, Yifan wants to say. He wants to say that it's adorable he took the time out of his day to listen to his songs and watch his movies and stuff. But... "That's nice of you, Zitao. Thank you." It can't always be just smooth like that. The rocky road is the only one Yifan can take right now.

"Anyway," He starts, checking his phone, "The Uber should be here any second now. See?" He put his phone in Zitao's line of sight, so he can see that yes, the Uber is near, and then he shuts off the screen and shoves his phone into his back pocket. He's glad they aren't anywhere too complicated. It's cold out here, and Zitao looks...

Yifan spares a glance down at Zitao's clothes. _"He dresses different now. Maybe.. maybe that's just how things change. It's all too easy."_

And just before Yifan could lose his brain too much, the Uber pulls up. He makes sure it's the right driver, the right car, and then speaks. "Ah, right on time. Shall we?" Yifan motions to the car, and without giving him time to respond, he leads Zitao into the Uber.

\- - - - - - - - - - - -

When they arrive at the hotel, Yifan momenetarily forgets how rich he is, because he was one hundred percent ready to mouth _“holy shit”_ at the building before them. He gives the Uber driver a thumbs up, assuring them that he'll give them five stars, and makes sure both himself and Zitao get out of the car before properly gazing at the hotel.

"So... shall we go inside?"

Zitao gives him a slight smile and sighs, "We're... staying at the same hotel," He breathes out. And man, he guesses that it was destiny that him and Yifan were going to see each other again tonight no matter what. He can't help but wonder, though... _what if Yifan just forgets about him again after tonight?_ He hates that, absolutely despises it and would like to never think about it again but-- it was a fair concern.

He nods, and they go inside, quickly grabbing the hotel key from the lady at the front desk, rushing to get to the elevator. Said elevator opens as they get in and maybe... maybe Zitao takes Yifan's hand gently in his. Because he can't find an excuse to stay pressed up against Yifan and he just needs-- he still needs to make sure he doesn't leave again.

In any other situation, Yifan would probably think it was cute that Zitao decided to hold his hand. But now? He feels... just the slightest bit trapped. Not that he was planning on going anywhere, obviously, because they're in an elevator. Because he called the Uber. Because he--

_talked to..._

Anyway. They're on the elevator together, going up. To whatever floor Yifan groggily reserved on the way to the party. Ironically enough, Zitao chose the same one, so they're not too far away from each other. _“Christ, we probably were gonna see each other regardless.”_

"I'll give you some time to... change, or wash up, or whatever. I need to like..." He wants to say, to take a breather. To chill out. Something like that. "Make sure I don't look completely wretched after all those bodies pressing against each other and whatnot..." Worst way to say party, but alright Yifan. "If that's okay with you, that is." He can _feel_ how stuffy he's being, it crawls under his skin like a parasite.

He sure isn't any better than the air in the party.

Zitao really does mean well, but he's honestly not thinking about Yifan's state too much right now because the only thing running through his mind and body is anxiety and _he's going to leave the hotel in the middle of the night, he's going to disappear again and this was all a mistake because Yifan is going to fucking leave, oh my god._

It seemed like they were on the same floor, too, based on what number Yifan chose. He glances up at him when he talks, listens closely to what he says and-- Instantly looks at the floor again and squeezes his hand hard enough that it might break if it were anyone else, because Yifan is _already_ trying to get away from him again. He's tearing up again already and making these weird, quiet, ugly noises trying to choke back sobs right here and now.

But maybe, Yifan is being a normal guy. And is just being polite, but he doesn't get his hopes up.

When the door opens on the floor, he just nods and lets go, rushing to his room with a, "Knock in a few minutes, I'll come to your room," The sentence is barely finished when his room door is already shutting behind him.

Zitao can barely stand the way he feels right now. He wants to rip his skin off; wants to rip _both_ of their skins off and just have them die right there, back in the hotel hallway. Fuck. He never should've done all this.

It’s a good three minutes of Zitao sobbing to himself before he aggressively scrubs off his makeup and the product out of his hair in the shower (where he also collects himself as best he can at this moment). He changes into a hoodie with joggers and makes sure his phone is charged before shoving it into his pocket. Then he... waits.

Yifan isn't feeling what Zitao is feeling... _at all._ He just thinks that he's being touchy and clingy (which sounds mean, but he doesn't mean it like that), just like the old days. Maybe Yifan is a lot more daft than everybody initially thought.

His hand hurts just a little bit now, from that squeeze, and he almost opened his mouth to say something dumb like _"Hey, that hurts dude, haha,"_ but the elevator doors open, and he speeds out into the hallway like Yifan's a hot coal and Zitao's laden with third degree burns. It stings, just a little bit, to be left alone so quickly.

_“Maybe that's how he felt, all those years ago.”_

Yifan has to act like his brain didn't conjure up that sentence specifically to hurt him.

"I'll... see you soon." He replies, but Zitao's hotel room door is already shut. He probably can't hear him. Shit.

He decides to trek it to his room, taking a bath as soon as he figures out where everything is located. The water feels good on his skin, after the warm party air and the cold outside air, and just... everything. After the bath, he ditches most of his party outfit, except his pants (jeans, typical) and the white t shirt he had underneath all his clothes. He... kinda feels like a farmer boy for a second.

But then he realizes that the t shirt and the jeans cost him like $1000 combined and he goes back to understanding that he's rich as fuck.

Anyway, he's finally done freshening himself up, so he heads out of his room (reminding himself to lock the door all the way out so he doesn't forget to do so) and walks over to Zitao's hotel room. He doesn't hear anything, not even breathing or shuffling, but he knocks twice anyway. He _really_ hopes he didn't get the wrong number, or something. Because that's totally plausible. (As stated before, Yifan is very dumb.)

Zitao had basically calmed himself down just enough that he wouldn't do something drastic when he opened the door like... hit Yifan or kiss him or something like that. That would be bad for himself and whatever innocent bystanders had to watch him wushu the hell out of this poor unsuspecting man because he can't control his emotions. Crisis averted.

Zitao hears the knock, and knows he was sitting in silence, which is a little weird... That's okay though, it was all part of the process.

...

He should probably answer it before Yifan walks away (which he inevitably will, because he’s _Yifan,_ who's both a coward and a menace combined.)

So he runs a hand through his hair, checks that his phone is charged a little, straightens out his hoodie, takes a deep breath and-- he's stalling. And he's doing a pathetic job at it. He gives up and opens the door. Now... Zitao is feeling a little underdressed, because Kris is slightly more formal than he is, and he looks good because _he always looks good, shit._

"Kris," He breathes out, the name feeling weird and all too short rolling off his tongue, because he stops before he hits an honorific and he basically just seizes. _Kris gege. Yifan. Yifan gege--_

"Duizhang," He switches, and that's-- that's much better. "Please just come in."

Sometimes Yifan feels starstruck. Like just a little bit, for some moments.

Actually, who is he kidding? He feels starstruck a lot of the time. And now, he just realized what the fuck is happening to him. Zitao is standing in front of him, opening the door to a hotel Yifan is also staying at, to talk to him. Or... sit in silence. Or something. Yifan has no _idea_ what the fuck is about to go down.

So, he's standing there, feeling like Zitao's the moon, and he's just some dog out in the backyard, barking up at him.

 _”It's really jarring,_ he thinks to himself, _how quickly things can happen. How quickly things can change, and alter, and whatever. It's a little scary, actually.”_

But he's been standing still for too long, unresponsive to... the old nickname he had. Back when he was all the way in South Korea. Back when he was in _EXO._ Which was... a long time ago. Yifan almost just stands there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, before he collects himself together enough to step into the room. It looks exactly like his room, which for some stupid reason, surprises Yifan. He doesn't know why it does. It just does.

"So," he starts, standing in front of the bed, "What... what would you like to do?"

Is it obvious that Yifan is fucking lost? Because he's lost.

Zitao is almost afraid he's done something wrong, he didn't want to make Yifan _shut down,_ but to be honest the name was to comfort _himself_ into some semblance of what once was normalcy and be in the right headspace for all... this.

He shuts the door behind him. He messes with the strings on his hoodie, looking anywhere except Yifan.

Really, he just wanted to talk. But now he was kind of exhausted. Did they still need to talk? Or was he subconsciously just trying to find an excuse to keep up his own hurt? He should probably let himself be happy. Whatever. Zitao doesn't know what he wants, or what he needs, that's fine...

"I could... put on a movie? And we could just lay down and maybe talk, if you wanted to..." He nods. That would be fine with him. "Unless you had something else in mind." Zitao gives a small smile, staying focused on him.

"I don't..." Yifan is trying to keep his thoughts clear and concise, but there's a lot bouncing around in his television of a head. Everything is going around like that dvd logo, and the only times he can speak are when it hits the corners of his brain. (Which is rare, so very rare.)

"I don't ever have much in mind."

That is possibly the most daft way to call himself dumb.

"Uh, anyway... movie is fine. Talking is fine. Whatever you want." The two brown eyes peering up at him were starting to get under his skin, in the not shitty way, just in the way that makes him feel seen. Like yes, Wu Yifan is living, he isn't dead, and Huang Zitao is in the same room as him, and they're in a hotel, and everything is crumbling just a little bit.

Maybe this is what being nervous feels like.

"I apologize for acting so weird. I just feel..." He scratches at the back of his neck, for real this time. Whatever if Zitao can tell he's nervous. "Awkward. Yeah."

Zitao is watching him like a hawk, studying everything he does and yeah-- there's his nervous thing. He reaches up and gingerly grabs his forearm, pulling it away from where he was scratching. He tugs Yifan's arm to get him to at least _sit_ on the bed next to him, because he wants to lay down but he doesn't-- he doesn't want to force it on Yifan and scare him off.

He flicked the TV on, where some cdrama rerun is playing, and it's a pretty classic one so if they decide to talk, it won't require or take away too much attention. Zitao lets himself relax for the first time this night, but he shoots Yifan another smile, and he hopes that it's warm enough to get him to relax even a little.

"It's okay, I just... I'm still trying to process too..." And he-- holds his hand out again, for Yifan to take, because maybe it'll help both of them. (And also to give him the option, unlike earlier when he just took his hand hostage.)

Yifan sits, because he somehow caught this drift and none of the other ones. (Also because he wants to sit down, because something or other is just rushing up to his head, is this what the kids call _anxiety_ oh god--)

But then the TV flickers to life, brightens up the room a little bit more, paints the side of Zitao's with colours shining from the LEDs on screen. It makes him feel a little better, a little more grounded, like he's... alive. But in a better way than before. In a way where he can breathe and touch the things around him. It _isn't_ just him and Zitao, it's him and Zitao and the cabinets and the bed and the lights and the windows and the doors and the television, oh the television.

...

Yifan is finding himself getting too sucked up in his own thoughts. He needs to concentrate.

He looks down at the hand extended in front of him, and he smiles, too. It makes him feel better than the lights and the doors and the bed and the windows and everything.

Makes him feel better than the television, too.

He takes the hand in his, because it was obvious, because it was offered. Yifan feels like he could climb mountains right now.

But he won't, because that isn't the task at hand. Yifan opens his mouth, for what feels like the first time in ages, and speaks,

"So... how's it been? For real this time."

He pauses, for a moment, to assess. He needs to be direct, probably.

"Not about work. About me. How have you been feeling, about me?"

(Forget the probably. He _is_ being direct.)

Zitao's heart soars way above those mountains Yifan could climb when his hand is taken in the other's. Jesus Christ. He feels like he can breathe again.

Everything is all fine and good and dandy, and he thinks they're going to sit here and hold hands and watch TV, and _maybe_ escalate this into cuddling until-- Yifan initiates the conversation for what must be the first time tonight.

At first, Zitao doesn't understand when Yifan says _"for real this time,"_ because he was being _"for real"_ last time he told Yifan how he was doing. And then Yifan clarifies, and the smile that turned into confusion now drops into a frown, and Zitao's heart freezes up and he almost chokes on his own existence and Jesus Christ, he's doing to die right effing now and-- nope. He's not dead. Which means he has to force out an answer. Because it's rude to not answer when someone asks you something, but especially _that._

His eyes drop down to the bed sheets and he takes a moment to think, lips pressed together and wishing he could just hide behind his hood forever.

"Ge, I feel--" Zitao lets out a heavy exhale. "I thought you hated me. And that I was never going to see you again. I couldn't... stop thinking about what I'd-- if I'd done anything wrong. And I was really angry, that you did that to me-- that you just left. And it made me question a lot of things about me, about you, about everything just-- in general. You really... kind of fucked me up."

Yifan breathes for probably the first time since he's left his studio. Since he first saw Huang Zitao. Since he first got to the hotel.

"Yeah."

It was all he could muster. All he could say while he held hands with someone he hurt so _deeply,_ so, so _long_ ago. It makes him feel rotten. Like an apple that was left out to melt away in the burning sun of his guilt. He feels guilty. He feels sad. He feels...

He feels...

Yifan needs to collect himself.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry about everything. Everything since the start of time. Everything until now. All of it. I'm sorry."

He chews at his lip, hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to bleed.

"And-- and I know that isn't enough, or anything. I know. But I just..." He can't think. He doesn't know how to think faster. How to speak louder. How to do better. He doesn't know any of it. He doesn't. _He doesn't._

"I don't know what to do. For you. To fix it. All of that. I don't know. I'm sorry."

Pathetically, he feels his heart stinking into his stomach, hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to bleed. Maybe Yifan shouldn't have gone to that damn party. He feels so miserable now. It would've been better if he just holed himself up and wrote some bullshit song he didn't mean. It would've been better. Because it's the dead of night and Yifan feels like the moon just left but he's still that fucking dog from before. He's just alone, with a sun that shines too bright for his eyes.

It is truly a wretched experience, this one.

Actually, Zitao doesn't cry this time. He almost does. He's still drowning in his tears and pure oxygen, but thankfully, his lungs haven't overflowed yet. Zitao really thought that they were done with this, because it was killing him to hear Yifan _so apologetic, so serious--_

Yeah, he hated it.

He looks up to watch the lights from the TV flick across Kris' face in the darkness, and has to do _something,_ has to say _something,_ and he doesn't even know how he feels right now. He just wants the dark times to be over but they keep coming and no matter how many times he replaces the battery in his flashlight, they always fucking drain too fast for him to assess his surroundings.

He pushes himself up without letting go of his _duizhang’s_ hand (because Yifan is always going to be Zitao's leader, no matter what's happened).

He sighs and rests his head on Yifan's shoulder, a broken little laugh leaving his throat.

"Wu Yifan, what have we gotten ourselves into--?"

And Yifan feels sick. Sick and shiny and spinning. Like he's on a fucking boat in a part of the ocean he can't name but he's first in command and it's his turn, he needs to lead, he needs to command, he needs to go, but he can't, and he's lost, and he's just... he's just so…

_Lost._

Yifan feels Zitao move, and then he feels a weight on his shoulder. His thoughts unceremoniously come to a screeching halt almost immediately, as if Zitao's head was the drop of water that ended the silence in his chest. Like he was the slingshot that can fling his heart back into place. Like he was the blood in his veins that he keeps inside his body when he bites his lip. So that he is able to live. _To survive._

Yifan has considered that maybe these things aren't _that_ serious, after all.

"I'm not sure." He mutters, way too quiet to be hearable, but not quiet enough for his ears. He hears his voice, loud and booming, like he's back in his chest where everything is dark and gloomy, and Yifan isn't welcome at all.

Yifan shakes his head. He needs to focus, he needs to focus so much. He needs to focus.

"How often do you wish things were different, Tao?"

Now he's really done it now. He called him Tao. Not Zitao, which is formal, stuffy. He called him Tao, and he's in for it, whatever _it_ is. He's in, and he's still swirling like his head is a cotton candy machine and his brain is the cotton candy, but he's not as miserable and sick as before. He's a little more ready. A little more willing. He's...

He's here. Yifan can settle with just being here.

Zitao hears something, but he can barely make it out, and he just-- he tries to decipher it and he just can't. He doesn't push it though, because if that was so important, Yifan would've said it out loud, would've _made sure he heard it_ and so he just... breathes.

It isn't like it's long before Yifan speaks again anyway, and Zitao wants so badly to have this fucking conversation, to replenish the stagnant and stale fucking air that he's been breathing for the past 4 years and fill his chest with things that were sparkly and new and _hopeful and happy and--_

And... Yifan.

He starts to speak, and barely chokes out a syllable before _the overflow that he was trying so fucking hard to avoid,_ and it-- he can't stop it from bubbling up and spilling out. A weak, gross noise comes out of his throat instead of a word; he turns his head so his nose is jammed into Yifan's shoulder to block it out. The tears are searing his cheeks like they're a fucking supercritical fluid that his emotions had been pressuring down for so long that they just couldn't _stay_ anymore.

Zitao squeezes Kris' hand again like a lifeline, like it's the only thing tethering him to the fucking _boat_ Yifan is commandeering and keeping him from drifting out into the unknown. Anything he tries to say comes out gurgled and ugly and _all Zitao wants is to be pretty again. These emotions, memories, make him feel ugly, gross, useless._

He swallows and tries not to sound too disgusting in Yifan's ear before he responds, shaky and uneven, "Every single day of my life."

Yifan feels like the moon is back, but in the crescent type of way, so nothing is full and it's so tiny and small that Yifan can't bark, even if he is a dog, even if it's in his nature. Yifan is quiet, and he is still, and he is sympathetic. But he is nothing, nothing all the time, nothing to time or space or reality. This room will forget him, the staff will forget him, _people,_ Yifan has decided, _will forget him._ Yifan has had just about enough of being forgotten. You know why?

Because Huang Zitao.

Because Huang Zitao _remembers._

Yifan didn't even know when he started crying, too. He just was.

It was as natural as the tidal wave in his chest making him feel sick and swaying, making him feel like he's drowning from the inside out.

It was as natural as the earthquake, deep in his core, shaking him from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, making him feel like he's twisting into knots like a pretzel.

It was as natural as Yifan's arms, wrapped around Zitao, tight, knowingly.

Wu Yifan was crying too. Silently, softly, secretly. He was crying enough to feel it himself, but not enough to impact the world. The universe. Time. Space. Reality. He was crying, in a hotel room, in the dead of night, with somebody he cared for so deeply so long ago. With somebody he can only hope still cares for him, because god _damn it_ he still cares, he still does, with every inch of the heart lodged so deep in his stomach, with every inch of the tidal wave in his chest, with every inch of the earthquake in his core. He _cares,_ he does, he cares, and it's making him feel lonely and miserable and alone just as much as it makes him feel connected and upbeat and crowded. He feels.

_He feels._

Yifan will always be engraved into Zitao's heart like names of lovers carved into a tree decades ago; like graphite hard-pressed into love letters from wars-- the feeling of the battle setting his heat ablaze. It spreads like a wildfire. And it doesn't matter how fucking cliche it sounds, or how stupid people will call him but Huang Zitao has _always_ believed in love over all else.

And God, he loves Yifan. He loves him so fucking much and he _hates_ him so fucking much, because Zitao-- Zitao has the opposite problem of Yifan. And maybe that's why he can't stop thinking about him no matter how much he tries. Why Yifan bleeds into every song he writes and every word he says and everything he ever does _ever will do._

All Zitao ever fucking does is _feel_ and for everything Yifan _can't, hasn't, maybe never will,_ Zitao has felt twice as much.

And he can feel Yifan crying. He doesn't want to look, he can't-- it'd just... he can't. But the slight tremble in his shoulders that he swore he felt and the way the air gained new weight ? He knew it. He was good at this.

Zitao doesn't dare take his head off Yifan's shoulder, just returns it to its original position with a sniff.

"Duizhang, I think I'll love you forever." He laughs, a little weak, a little wet, a little pathetic.

Yifan nods, and it feels heavy, it feels light, it feels like everything in between. It means everything, but it means nothing, and he can feel the weight and magnitude of everything he's ever done tonight lay on him like he's a plate and his decisions are the fattest pancakes known to man. His consciousness is the starving truck driver who works late nights and early mornings, who works hard but gives up easily, who enters the twenty four hour diner to order the same pancakes every _time._ Everything is spinning, faster than Yifan can comprehend, and he needs to shake his head again to focus, to _concentrate._

"I think I've loved you since we first met, actually."

Yifan doesn't know where to go from there, where to lead. He doesn't know, he isn't sure, it's just him and his life and his thoughts and his body. He can barely breathe, through tears and snot and stupor, and it makes everything just a bit harder to bear. Yifan isn't the dog, or an apple, or a tidal wave, or an earthquake.

Yifan is the sun. He is tied to Zitao, destined, but they are star crossed, unable to touch, to see, to know. They are fatefully connected, in tragic and twisting ways that Yifan thinks is too complicated to consider.

"I think I'll love you forever, too."

Yifan thinks he can't do much else than that.

(Yifan thinks he has no other choice.)

Zitao just sobs now, because there's no hiding it. Yifan is just going to have to deal with it as he presses in much closer. His body is actually nearly in Kris' lap now, which-- yeah, He's had enough and just fully seats himself there and wraps his arms around the other's neck. He's suffocatingly close now, pressing into the other's chest like _Kris' lungs are his lungs, like Kris' heart is his heart, like Kris' blood is his blood._

Everything that happens is just a little pinprick of a needle into Zitao's heart, but it feels like he's being cut in half. Because this is _his_ duizhang, _his_ Jiaheng, _his_ Yifan, _his_ Kris-- sitting here and-- saying he loves him back? 

The thought, the words, the sentiment itself is so fucking ethereal because all these years-- yeah, he’d had his Xing-ge and his Han-ge who had _tried so hard for him, pushed so hard for him, just wanted him to be happy and to live their dreams together._ They tried to comfort him and make everything okay, or at least as okay as it could get, but the empty spaces in their comeback’s choreography were all too reminiscent of the empty spaces in Zitao’s heart every single time he’d enter the practice room.

He couldn’t take it, he didn’t want to leave his brothers behind and hurt them all, betray them like Kris did. But Kris was a role model if nothing else, and like he’d followed him in EXO M those years ago, he followed him out. But Zitao-- Zitao wanted to do it right, wanted to do it gently and become a passing, warm memory instead of a sempiternally healing scar on his brother’s minds. He wanted to go just like Kris did; wanted to do the exact thing he renounced over and over again, as loud as he could off of every rooftop and down every alley. He tried to stay. For Luhan, for Yixing, for Sehun. 

And then Luhan left. And everything fell apart. Who was he if he left just like his ges had? A follower? A coward? He’d tried to stick around. Tried and tried as things got worse and worse and everyone kept fucking leaving him-- and Zitao was young and alone and foreign, _foreign, foreign, (and they’d made sure he’d never fucking fit in, made him so he’d never be able to be like his Korean brothers, let him know he was unwanted and unwelcome and was nothing but a pretty face to shut up and make them look good--)._ He was so scared back then, when he felt like no one could want him--

And Yifan was here saying he loved him.

Zitao hated to act like a spoiled, petulant child again-- even if it never really left him and it was all he really ever yearned to return to anymore and it ran through his veins because _his ge got him whatever he wanted when they were younger; protected him from all the dangers when they were younger; kept him from getting hurt when they were younger; made him happy when they were younger._

 _And if Kris was ever a dragon, Zitao was a prince. He was sheltered and surrounded in whatever he wanted because Zitao was a good boy who worked hard, and had a castle made of glass, from his frozen tears, more like it; it was completely transparent, fragile--_ just like the prince himself. And Kris is an interesting, one of a kind creature that Zitao just wanted to care for, to keep, but he got loose and now he's demolishing the beautiful walls around Zitao, but the thing is…

He doesn't mind. Because just like a prince, Zitao is loyal and true.

Even though Zitao isn't concerned about his castle _(because he can always build a new one, that’s big enough for Yifan this time),_ but now... he's away from his castle, and right now he hates Yifan because all he wanted to do was sit here in a hotel room and be _kind,_ be _sweet,_ be _civil_ and win Yifan back over...

He really just wanted to show him that he was a decent person, that he was a _grown up_ and someone that could just coexist. That he was ready to be a king and no longer just a pretty thing to hide away and play with his dragons. Even though there'd always be his _youthfullness,_ Zitao wanted to rule. With Yifan by his side.

But he hates _himself_ too, because of course this ends in him crying and confessing his love over and over again because _the cdramas he acts in feel more like real life than when he wakes up in the morning. He feels more like a prince and a prisoner than he's ever felt like a normal kid just trying to make it. And Yifan messed up a lot when he broke nineteen year old Zitao's fantasy, but it wasn't Yifan's fantasy to keep up._

Zitao is back in real life. He's used to everything being pretend. And his brain is clear for the first time in maybe his whole life. Because even though he was never a prince and he'll never be a king, he knows what he wants.

"I can't-- I can't do it again, I think I'll die if you leave me again," And Yifan had really been killing him all these years, but this is the first time he’s ready to say it, ready to face it dead on and say _kill me if you want, but i’m sick of the games._

And Zitao feels-- he feels so pathetic. But this is the first time that he's let himself go enough to stand up for himself and say what he wants. This isn't him saying what's good for the public, or what's good for other people, this is Zitao making a life decision for _himself._

"I want you in my life, Yifan. Please don't leave."

Yifan..

Yifan is himself.

Yifan can't fit that many emotions in his stupid body, and he can't detect all of the emotions Zitao is feeling right now. He lacks the ability and tact to do any of that bullshit, so he doesn't, because he can't.

He just sits there.

Loving.

Waiting.

He'll do it for years if he has to. Zitao did it too. So Yifan figures, he owes it to him, because all of that waiting and loving must've exhausted him to his core, as Yifan understands; that the very little time he's done now, it’s making him feel like that apple again, but he _is_ the sun that melts him to the ground. He's all of it, all of the terrible things, but the damaged stuff too. He's all of it, because it's him, because it's his body.

And for that, Yifan decides, he is ungrateful. This is fucking awful. He can't _believe_ how long Zitao kept this up.

He should've said sorry to Zitao sooner.

"I don't think I'm _able_ to leave, Tao. I think I might die, too." Maybe he'll die slower, more painfully, but he'll die. He'll die like the rotten apple he is. Like the dying star he is, dying light not able to be seen until a million years after it’s gone. He'll die, too.

"I won't leave. I won't leave. I won't leave."

He repeats it three times, like a fucking chant, but it isn't, it's just reassurance. To Zitao, to himself, to the world.

He won't leave. He won't leave. He won't leave.

If Kris is the sun, Zitao was once a hydrangea.

Now he's a delphinium, blooming and flowering under the heat and reaching for the light--

But Zitao doesn't think Kris is the sun. 

To him, Kris is the Earth; the ground. Full and rich with nutrients and everything Zitao needs to flourish _no matter what the conditions are._ And now Zitao knows, sometimes the ground is cruel and dry and depleted of all life, _but you just have to dig._ He's the roots that keep Zitao grounded, and now-- Zitao thinks everything will be alright. Because Yifan is a man of his word because _he could never forget anything about Kris, and he knows that Yifan would never lie to him._ Because the thing is, Yifan didn't say he would leave before. He was always on the move, from the moment he was born, Zitao couldn't imagine _uprooting between countries and between cities, and never being somewhere long enough to make friends and call it home._

Zitao takes a breath, and the air isn't stuffy and the tears aren't spilling.

He won't cry anymore, because what does he have to cry about?. He just wants to lift Yifan up. Make him happy. Make him feel better. Make him feel loved. Make him _feel._ But in a good way, not... whatever they've been putting each other through for the past years up to this very moment.

And Zitao could never be spiteful, but he wishes he could be sometimes-- now is not one of those times. Keeping his heart and mind open and giving forgiveness everyday like it's his job has finally come back to him

Yifan has finally come back to him.

"...Lay down with me, gege?"

Yifan wasn't one to say no, in most situations. He was a very _"go with the flow"_ type of guy. Not because he's a pushover or anything, but because he simply can't be assed to take initiative, or go against somebody's will. Sure, he has his moments (obviously, leaving EXO was one of them), but there weren't many.

So, you know, when you get asked to lay next to somebody you literally abandoned years ago, you kind of can't refuse.

Not that Yifan ever would. He'd have to be out of his mind. (And again, he goes with the flow.)

"Yes." He says, simply, although the trip that led him to that answer was simple at all. It's taken him years to have this moment, to be asked this question, but yet, Yifan feels like there was barely any effort involved here. He likes that, really. (The tears and snot should be a big indicator that he'd love to stop being in so much pain about this. That he wants to stop feeling like he carries the weight of the world on his back.)

"I'd love to lay down with you." He finishes, remembering that they are indeed in a hotel room, together, making up with each other, even though they're both struggling to do so.

Yifan decides that life truly is a mystery.

Zitao is just so relieved. This is all he's wanted for years and years and even before Yifan left, Zitao would've killed to just get to lay with Yifan a little longer back in their shitty dorm, when they had shared beds and shared rooms and a single bathroom. And it's so different.

Because Zitao and Yifan have more money than they know what to do with, and they can go wherever they want, whenever they want. It makes Zitao feel better, because now Yifan _has a choice to be here_ and he still made the choice to stay. (As opposed to the dorms, when Zitao had to sleep with their manager and their duizhang because he was forced to fight demons in his sleep, fight the night, fight _himself,_ because nighttime was never peaceful, back then.)

And now they're here.

And at the beginning of the night, Zitao felt so old. Like a failure of a man, rotting away in his 90’s, that never had any children and never married, never loved, his body and mind decaying like roadkill left to die. But he feels so young now. So young and renewed, and he should because there are idols debuting this year that are older than him-- He has so much life to live, like Yifan’s acceptance gave all his years back to him. 

Actually-- Zitao takes it back.

This felt much better than it ever did. And this is so much different, again, because they're in a giant hotel room with no one telling them when they have to get up in the morning, with no one telling them they shouldn't be around each other. It's just Zitao and Yifan. Tao and Kris.

Zitao pulls Yifan down with him , next to him, and can't do anything but look at him and smile, because _this is what he's waited his whole life for._

And none of those pretty (or shitty) metaphors matter anymore. Because there's no prince, or dragon, or boat, or sea, or dogs howling at the moon, or drowning boys or dark rooms or flashlights or flowers. It's just Zitao and Yifan. Tao and Kris.

And Jesus Christ, Zitao wanted to kiss him but he didn't know if Yifan _got it--_ that when he was saying he loved Yifan it wasn't to say he hated distance or that he loved him like a follower loved their god, or how a friend loved a friend. He was _in love_ with Yifan-- and maybe that was too much for right now.

Because Tao is plenty fine right here, like this. Looking at his handsome duizhang, and being so _happy,_ happier than anything he's done has made him. Better than any of the awards. Better than any of his accomplishments. Better than all the dollar bills. Better than the pretty girls that praise him and scream his name when he's seen on the street.

He moves his hands down to squeeze Kris' forearms, and he has to look like an idiot with the way his smile is splitting his face in half, but he doesn't give a damn.

Yifan really didn't get it. He didn't think it was _love,_ in the way Zitao saw it. Yifan did love him, he did, just not like that, at least for now. He did before, when they were smaller, younger, but this love was different. This love was like a friend, like someone close to him who he missed dearly. It wasn't the same. So, even if Yifan didn't know it, he's glad Zitao didn't kiss him, or anything like that. Because he might've frozen up if he did.

(Because, maybe in time, Yifan will love him in the same way he used to, but for now, he needs to get used to feeling like it's not the end of the world, anymore.)

But, Yifan is happy, he is so damn happy, he feels like all that bullshit about being apples and dogs and oceans and earthquakes is stupid and dumb, it's all irrelevant. Yifan is Yifan, Zitao is Zitao, and they are together, laying in a bed after years of weirdly ignoring each other, and everything is good. Yifan is content, he is happy, he is glad. Yifan is doing so good, next to someone he didn't even think he yearned for like this. Yifan is _happy._

"I know we're past this..." He starts, a little awkwardly, because he feels awkward, because it's been so long, "but I'm sorry. For everything."

He smiles, for real, and it looks just a bit stupid and wonky, but that's just how he is.

"But, I'm glad you're here with me. Like this. I'm glad..." He takes a breath, not short enough to be quick, but not long enough to take a milenna, "I'm glad we're past it." He pauses, thinking. "Or at least I'm assuming we're past it. Really..." He scrunches his eyebrows together, "really you have to be the one who's past it."

The thought of Zitao not being past it makes him a little worried, but the reception he's received so far hasn't been negative, so he thinks he's in the clear. He thinks he’s safe to assume. (But Yifan has never been one to trust his own judgement, so confirmation would be nice, really.)

Zitao is more than happy, more than content and happy to just stay here like this forever. The world could stop turning or a volcano can erupt and he would be fine with it, because right here is perfect. Right here is-- the best place he could ever be. And making Yifan happy is all Zitao could've ever asked for.

If Yifan said it would make him happy to not talk to him ever again, he would leave it be. And that's what kept him going for so long, is thinking that Yifan is happy _without him,_ and he's just more baggage, more emotions, more burden to carry around.

Boy, it sure did seem like he was wrong, with the way Yifan was smiling at him. The same smile from years ago made his heart flutter has the same effect now. Yifan looks a little dumb, a little silly, and it just looks _right_ because Kris-- Kris has this image in public now, where he's badass and angry and silent and strong, and won't say much because _he doesn't have to._

But that's stupid. Tao knows that Yifan can be soft at heart, he's seen it-- But maybe Kris _had_ built a hard shell around that softness. That was fine. Zitao was good with breaking through it, or slowly melting it, or whatever he had to do to get back to it. His handsome, silly, awkward, fantastic, talented, one of a kind, Wu Yifan.

Zitao feels so-- embarrassed that Yifan is smiling at him like that. His cheeks are burning now, and he has the urge to hide his face but god, he doesn't wanna do anything to mess this up, and he actually might vomit-- okay, nevermind he got it under control, he's fine.

"Yifan, we're past apologies now. I know you're sorry," He laughs softly.

"You know..." He looks over his face. "I'm glad we're past it too, I hope... I hope you meant it. When you said you'd stay."

Yifan means it, he means it so _much,_ and he wants to tell him-- wants to perfectly show him how much he is willing to stay, how many years he's wasted trying to convince himself otherwise. But they're laying down, and this bed to so comfortable, and Zitao's gaze is so blinding, and the cdrama is barely relevant when Yifan closes his eyes, drawing Zitao closer to his chest. It's not much, it's not dramatic, it's just Yifan-- moderate, calculated, cold, and he's sleeping, now, exhausted but calm, tired but halcyonic.

Yifan is asleep, laying on a bed he couldn't even _dream_ of affording when he first slept next to Zitao, and he hopes that enough.

He hopes Zitao _understands._

**Author's Note:**

> hello. i hope everybody is okay. pls comment ur favourite parts, or yell at us. idc. just. leave feedback. thank u.


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